Sean Hughes is only 43 years old but life’s slings and arrows have taken their toll. The one-time impish Irishman admits that he wakes too early, naps unexpectedly and sighs when he does not mean to. Add the fact that when he gave up smoking he got a fat face and he has every right to be a curmudgeon. Luckily he is a very funny curmudgeon too.

Last time Hughes toured he incurred audience wrath for joking about the Madeleine McCann case. This time there is a whole new tranche of tamer taboos, from Michael Jackson to Iggy Pop, who stamped on Hughes’s rebellious ideals by doing insurance ads. His most daring and surprisingly well-received tirade attacked Stephen Fry, who, he suggests, also ditched his integrity by taking the advertising shilling à la Iggy.

These are just a few of the targets in a wide-ranging whinge, with Hughes constantly coming up with quickfire back references and returning to seemingly deserted topics, suggesting considerable craft beneath the scattershot appearance. Some riffs, particularly one about the Human League’s political forays, are admittedly funnier if you recall the Eighties. As he says, younger fans may view the show as a documentary about ageing.

This is an intelligent piece that skilfully weaves audience banter and self-deprecation about his enduring bachelordom into general comedic observations about Page Three pin-ups and reality television. Towards the end there is even a routine about his strict Catholic upbringing which sheds light on Hughes’s skewed vision. Not laugh-a-second but the gags are well worth the wait.

Bloomsbury Theatre, 15 October. Information: 020 7388 8822 www. thebloomsbury.com